


Needless to say, I'll stand in your way

by Elisexyz



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Kidnapping, Season/Series 01, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 08:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14328804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: The universe has really awful timing.Or Ward gets his brand newJemma Simmonsmark in the midst of the meeting to decide how to deal with her kidnapping. He's not happy.





	Needless to say, I'll stand in your way

**Author's Note:**

> For the Tumblr prompt: ["Don’t ever leave my sight again.” + Biospecialist](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/172967604869/dont-ever-leave-my-sight-again-and-biospec). I changed the phrasing a bit, but- is any of you really surprised, at this point?

There isn’t a soul on Earth that hasn’t heard of it at least a hundred times during their life, yet, as it happens, Grant is completely unable to connect the dots.

The pain has been described to him as something close to a stab, but he _has_ been stabbed before, and this is nothing like it. It’s like someone is carving the letters into his ribs, burning through his skin to make sure that it sticks. It’s a sudden and blinding pain that leaves him knees on the floor with no chance to resist.

It’s only when he opens his eyes to find Skye crutched down in front of him, one hand on his shoulder to keep him in place and concern twisting her features, that he finds a moment to catch his breath and realize what just happened.

“Ward? Can you even hear me?” Skye is calling, as he stares blankly at her face. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. “This is not the _time_ —” No, he has to agree, it most certainly _isn’t_ the time. They have a kidnapping to deal with and Grant is running a long con that will either end with John dying on him or getting what he needs, he can’t _afford_ the distraction right now.

He can’t deny that he’s _thought_ about his soulmate, and more than once: he’s only human, and his life has been _lonely_ , how could he be opposed to the fantasy of someone _meant_ for him, who would accept him with all the brokenness— but now is not the _time_. He needs to focus, he needs to be sharp and—

The ache is getting dull, close to a slight burn, but very persistent, as if the name was urging him to take a look. And hell, it’s not like not knowing will make the timing any better. If anything, accounting for variables is easier when you have all the information.

So he moves away from Skye and he just pulls his shirt up, as understanding lights her face and for a second she just looks overwhelmed with excitement on his behalf.

 _Jemma Simmons_ is now carved in her familiar handwriting on his left ribs.

“Shit,” he lets out, unable to help himself because— _shit_. Simmons— no, _Jemma_ — Jemma is his soulmate. Jemma who wants to save lives, who’s loyal to SHIELD and is very, _very_ unlikely to react kindly to his true allegiance, Jemma whom he has been _lying_ to since the first moment they spoke – he promised himself he would never play his soulmate like a mark; well, fuck everything because his soulmate _is_ a mark, and the thought makes him _sick_ –, Jemma who has been _kidnapped_ and who is most likely being _tortured_ for information right now.

“Oh,” Skye comments, blinking slowly. “Well— congratulations?” she tries, with a nervous smile. He knows that she too is thinking about Jemma’s current whereabouts. Shit, shit, _shit_.

“I’m getting her back,” he announces, standing up and looking at Coulson in the eye.

“Ward—” he starts protesting, his tone placating, but right now Grant doesn’t want to _hear_ it.

“ _Whatever_ it takes,” he stresses, and he _means_ it. He’ll cross off anyone on his path, he’ll raid the place on his own if he has to, and he won’t be losing a second of sleep over it. He can work out how to make it acceptable for his cover _later_ , right now what matters is that Jemma is _his_ and she’s in danger, because SHIELD is too _incompetent_ to take care of his non-combat ready scientists— Jemma won’t be the next John. If he finds her with any lasting damage, he’s burning it _all_ to the ground and torturing Coulson until he gives up how the hell he’s still walking around. And then he can work on persuading her to forgive him— after all, how could she _not_? They are meant for each other, she’s _his_.

She’s his and he’ll get her back, be it the last thing he ever does.

 

 

He goes in with little to no back-up, because fucking SHIELD of course couldn’t be _bothered_ to send a squad for ‘one agent who hasn’t been trained to withstand torture and who’s probably dead already’ – good thing that Blake wasn’t physically present, because otherwise Grant would have most likely broken his face.

Even Coulson looked outraged at that, which did nothing to calm Grant down.

He’s leaving behind a bloodbath, Skye offering some back-up but having very little to do herself: he suspects that Coulson paired them up precisely working on the assumption that he’d slaughter everyone and accidentally protect her from having to step in. He doesn’t care, his only goal is getting to Jemma.

“ _Alright, Ward, you should turn left and go down the stairs— according to the blueprints, the cells are stationed there_ ,” Fitz instructs, his voice forcibly steady.

“Copy that.”

The corridor is clear, so he automatically fastens his pace, which ends with him slamming against a guy coming from the left turn he’s supposed to take. The fight is brief and ends with the guy wasting a bullet that gets planted in the ceiling and Grant shooting him in the face.

There’s nobody else guarding the door that should lead them down to the cells, and he truly hopes that it doesn’t mean that they are keeping Jemma somewhere else— namely, an interrogation room.

“Move,” he orders, after kicking the door open and noticing that Skye has been left too many steps behind.

She licks her lips and nods briefly, straightening her shoulders and gripping her gun tighter.

He heads down the stairs without even checking if she’s following.

The place looks like a stereotypical basement, it’s humid as hell and he wonders if the aesthetic is deliberate. He tries not to think about Jemma curled up in a corner, starving, worried about the rats that surely would fit in a place like this— he’s not very successful.

There’s a long string of cells in front of him, on the right side of the corridor, and he can see people, faces covered in blood, some unrecognizable, looking at him with suspicion, probably wondering if he’s a new guard or if he’s come to help.

Neither, he honestly doesn’t give a shit about any of them.

“I found a set of keys hanging there,” Skye announces. “I’ll start opening the doors.”

“Yeah, do that,” he says, distractedly. “I’ll look for Jemma.”

He doesn’t wait for her answer before walking away. “Jemma!” he calls, on the off-chance that he might miss her passing by. He has no idea in what condition she’s in, and a couple of the poor bastards down there were curled up in such a tight ball that he had to do a double take to make sure that they weren’t _her_ , so better safe than sorry. Not to mention that if he has to go _one_ more minute without knowing how she is he’ll go insane. “Jemma!”

“Ward?”

He’s not sure if he heard it or just imagined it over the chattering of the prisoners who are starting to realize what’s going on and are downright begging him to get them out too.

“Ward! I’m here!”

This time he totally he heard it. And he can see familiar hands waving at him from inside one of the cells.

He sprints there at a speed that he wasn’t even sure he could reach, taking her hands into his as she laughs in relief. The left side of her face is covered in dried blood that goes all the way down to her neck and stains a good portion of her clothes too, there are awfully big bags under her eyes, she’s covered in dirt and there are tears of relief picking at the corners of her eyes. But she’s standing and she doesn’t seem to be in pain, that’s something, at least.

“I’ll pick the lock,” he says, waiting for her to nod before he lets go of her hands. He could run back to Skye and get the keys, but who knows what’s the right one and he’s not about to leave Jemma now that he found her. Picking it is faster for him anyway.

“ _Ward? Did you find her?”_ Fitz asks.

“Yes, I’m getting her out,” he says, quickly, and he tunes out Fitz’s exclamations of relief at the news.

He’s in shortly after, and the first thing he does is scooping Jemma in his arms without asking for permission. Which in retrospect he probably _should_ have, because she’s been held captive for almost a week and she may not welcome physical contact, but his mark is burning pleasantly against his ribs and she’s hugging him back anyway, her face hidden in the crook of his neck.

“I’m so glad to see you,” she says, and he can feel the smile behind her words.

“Me too,” he breathes out, his fingers interlaced with her hair. It’s when he comes across dried blood that he remembers that he should make a medical assessment, because the fact that everything feels _okay_ now only means that he got his soulmate back, it doesn’t guarantee that she’s healthy.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, gently breaking the hug to check her out more up-close.

“I suspect I have a concussion, some cuts and bruises, but nothing more severe,” she explains, smiling at him in a way that’s supposed to be reassuring but only brings attention to her split lip.

He technically has done enough killing for the day, but it’s all been methodical and fast, he needs someone to _torture_ for this.

His eyes drift to the blood on her clothes – there’s _really_ an awful lot –, then he looks back at her without saying a word.

“Oh, no,” she shakes her head, her voice thin and her fingers, still gripping his arms, twitching uncomfortably. “This isn’t mine.”

That’s— the lesser of two evils, probably. They’ll need to talk about what exactly happened. For now, though, he’ll just take the win and let himself be relieved that his soulmate is as okay as she can be.

“You are never leaving my sight again,” he states, and it comes across half-way between an order and a scared prayer.

Jemma smiles again. She’s smiling at him a lot, and he doesn’t know if it has always warmed him up like this without him truly noticing or if it’s a new thing. “With pleasure.”

He inhales sharply, nodding once before offering her his hand to take as they head out.

Skye is almost done with the cells, and now that he has Jemma back Grant needs to start worrying about his cover again. Which means letting go of Jemma and start picking locks to speed the process up.

Jemma gets an enthusiastic hug from Skye and a comm to talk with Fitz and the others, but throughout the whole thing she doesn’t leave his side – he’s grateful for it: he feels a constant pull towards her and he can’t bring himself not to check that she’s still okay every two seconds, he’s positive he’d drop everything to follow her if she tried to get out of his field of vision.

“Feeling less murderous now?” Skye jokes, with a light pat on his back. She’s smiling teasingly, but there’s a note of uncomfortableness in her tone, which reminds him that she’s witness to his earlier bloodbath.

Well, shit. That might have scarred her for life, which means that he’ll have some work to do if he wants to salvage his cover.

Everyone knows that people get dumb when their soulmates are in danger, but he doubts that that makes much of a difference for her right now.

“Yes, I—I’m sorry for—” He gestures vaguely in the direction of the stairs. “For making you watch that.”

She shrugs. “I always knew you kill people, Ward.”

“ _Yes_ , but—”

“And this is your soulmate,” she interrupts, a bitter smile twisting her lips. “I get it.” He knows how hard she wishes to find someone that’s _hers_ : that common desire during a less than ideal childhood is what he leveraged to build an emotional connection. For a second, he feels almost guilty that he is not alone anymore.

Then his eyes fall on Jemma and she immediately senses it, staring back and offering yet another smile. His lips twitch for a moment.

“I’m still sorry you had to see that,” he states, tearing his eyes away from Jemma and looking back at Skye.

Problem is, he really isn’t. There’s a very insistent part of him that keeps yelling: _Fuck this, fuck the cover, just take her away_. There’s a part of him that only cares about getting to know every little thing about her and keeping her _close_. Everything in him is rebelling upon being forced to lie to her until he’ll inevitably break her heart or die.

For the first time, at the thought of being forced to choose between John and _anything_ else, the answer doesn’t seem all that obvious.


End file.
